


Her First Peaceful Sleep

by Saltrova



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: All She Wants to do is Sleep Peacefully, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Healing, House Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, One Shot, Past Abuse, Rape Recovery, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 04:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12051036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saltrova/pseuds/Saltrova
Summary: Jon helps Sansa have her first peaceful night of sleep.





	Her First Peaceful Sleep

“Do it.” Her voice was a bundle of nerves. Quivering and pitiful to her ears; and Jon's too, if his flinch was anything to go by.

It was silent for a while, long enough to make her begin to doubt herself. She wanted this. She had been so sure this morning, as she fretted about, pondering how to tell Jon what she needed. But now. . .

“We don't have to.”

Sansa nearly rolled her eyes at his quiet reply. She didn't talk herself into this just for his honor to ruin everything. Taking a deep breath, she wrapped her arms around him, entwining her fingers together so he couldn't get away. “Don't you dare leave me.”

The muscles in Jon's jaw bunched as she felt him strengthen his resolve. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, a wordless apology, and Sansa steeled herself.

The thrust seemed to come without warning, even though she had prepared for it. She saw Ramsay and nearly choked.

Another thrust split through her and a helpless sob escaped.

“Sansa,” Jon's voice was pained at he stilled above her.

“Keep going,” her voice was broken but she was determined. Jon however refused to move, and she dug her nails into his forearm. “Please.”

He sighed and gritted his teeth, but resumed the slow pace as he carefully filled her.

Sansa sobbed and clutched at Jon as she saw HIM in her mind. Ramsay was pinching and biting, sneering and snarling. The pain as he viciously slammed into her womanhood sent shock waves running through her that rendered her stiff and helpless.

“Sansa,” Jon's voice was gentle but determined. Loving and familiar.

She slowly forced her eyes open.

“Look at me,” he instructed.

It was hard to see him through the tears leaking out of her eyes.

When Jon was satisfied that she was focused on him, he picked up the speed, his hips snapping a steady rhythm.

The changes happened gradually. The memories of Ramsay started to fade out as the sensations flowing through her intensified and began to demand her attention.

Sansa didn't know what to do with herself. She couldn't think. She could only feel and wait in anticipation for something. . . 

The feelings unfurled inside of her, similar to a tickle, if not in sensation than in reaction. She stiffened her body, automatically fighting the intensity even though it was a pleasurable one. There was a whirlwind forming somewhere within her and she whimpered at the unknown feelings. “Jon.”

“Shh,” he replied. “Just feel.” 

Jon's thrusts were relentless, his body surging into hers like an overwhelming storm before retreating and allowing her the chance to reclaim her breath for a fleeting second before it was robbed from her once more.

Sansa's mind had gone blank, the past no longer invading. Her mouth fell open as the urgency of his movements swept over her, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. “Jon,” her voice was louder and more panicked. 

He captured her lips in a kiss to silence her, while his lower half pounded into her.

Sparks flashed in Sansa's vision as her body began trembling uncontrollably. She was distantly aware of screaming Jon's name repeatedly but she could hardly hear. Her body shook and her senses retreated. She clutched at Jon who was pressing sweet kisses to her face as each convulsion and shiver erased the memory of everything but him and her in this moment. 

“Jon,” she sighed softly, when her body was finally still again. 

He collapsed on top of her seeming as drained as she was. “Goodnight, Sansa.” His voice was soft and sleepy as he rolled onto the space beside her, pulling the fur over both of them.

Sansa turned and snuggled into his chest. “Goodnight, Jon,” she murmured. She closed her eyes and drifted into a peaceful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This one shot was ENTIRELY inspired by this comment: **Bloody hell, you do not disappoint. Jon fucking the Ramsay and bad memories out of Sansa is a major kink of mine.**  
> Which was in response to this line:  
>  _the only time she’s not steel-hard is when he’s between her thighs, driving the ghosts of her parents and her brothers out of her, the memory of whatever happened in the wall of that brothel he burned to the fucking ground...._
> 
> from the story “the burning season” by  sevenfoxes


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